Hundred Battles Martial Training Ground

Skywind Martial City, South District, Yuelai Teahouse.

"Slurp—"

Tang Xiaoman grabbed a leg of sauce-glazed spirit deer and ate until his mouth was slick with grease. He mumbled around a mouthful, "Brother Qin, I heard you cut that kid Ning Zhiyuan down with one sword and turned him into a dried corpse? Tsk, tsk. That's terrifying."

Qin Jue lifted his wine cup and swirled it. "Ning Zhiyuan... He brought it on himself. Who told him to take random pills? I merely went with the flow and sent him on his way. When all's said and done, he was just a poor fool who let his family's vanity swell him until he burst."

"Heh, I've got to hand it to you. You've got a real talent for insulting people."

"By the way, how's your injury?"

"Healed ages ago." Tang Xiaoman thumped his chest. "You know how strong the recovery from my Crimson Sun Marrow Refining Technique is. That little injury was nothing."

He took another huge bite of meat and continued, "I was just going stir-crazy. I lay around for a whole month. My bones were practically rusting."

Qin Jue gave him a sidelong glance.

Tang Xiaoman's aura was much steadier than it had been at Silver Moon Bay. He still seemed a little weak, but there was no serious cause for concern. Only the occasional shadow in his eyes betrayed the fact that he hadn't entirely put that life-or-death battle behind him.

"What about Brother Pei?"

"Him? Haven't seen him around lately." Tang Xiaoman finished the meat and tossed the bone onto his plate. "I'm guessing he's in seclusion, trying to break through to the Hundred Refinements Seventh Layer."

"But speaking of that last fight, it was brutal. I almost lost my life. Still, every cloud has a silver lining. My qi and blood feel even more refined than before. I've been itching for a fight these past few days. I just want to find somewhere to loosen up."

Qin Jue raised an eyebrow. "Where do you want to go?"

Tang Xiaoman grinned and leaned in close, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "The Hundred Battles Martial Training Ground."

Qin Jue knew the name well. In fact, it was practically legendary. It was the true heart of Skywind Martial City, a blood-soaked arena that cared nothing for one's origins and judged only by one's record. Countless desperadoes and battle maniacs honed their skills in life-and-death combat there. Countless more gifted commoners saw it as a ladder to defy fate, dreaming of making a name for themselves on the "Winning Streak Rankings" and striking it rich overnight.

"Let's go." Qin Jue rose and fished a Gold Coin from his robes, tossing it onto the table. "I've got a few things to take care of, and I might as well pick up some cultivation resources while I'm at it."

He planned to visit Four Seas Pavilion again. He was only a hair's breadth away from advancing from the Hundred Refinements Fourth Layer to the Fifth, but relying on meditation and painstaking cultivation alone would be too slow. His body had been remade by the Nine Revolutions Viscera Refining Secret Record, and it was like a bottomless vessel. Ordinary cultivation couldn't fill that endless void; he needed a vast infusion of resources.

Tang Xiaoman's eyes lit up. "You got it! Since Brother Qin's treating, I won't stand on ceremony. Let's go!"

Four Seas Pavilion.

As always, Four Seas Pavilion was bustling with people. As the largest trading house in Skywind Martial City, it never lacked for martial artists looking to offload stolen goods or hunt for treasures.

Behind the counter, the manager was idly clicking his abacus. When he looked up and saw Qin Jue, his eyes immediately lit up. He hurried out from behind the counter, his face wreathed in a warm smile.

"Ah, Young Master Qin! What brings you here? How did the Stone Bell Milk you bought last time work out?"

Qin Jue gave a slight nod and placed the broken saber, wrapped in cloth, on the counter. "Not bad. I'm here to sell something today."

The manager's gaze fell on the broken saber, and his expression turned professional at once. He picked it up and examined it from every angle for a long while before praising it. "A fine saber! It may be broken, but the material's mixed with refined darksteel, and it was forged by a master. If it were intact, it'd be worth at least two thousand Gold Notes. Unfortunately, though the break is clean, the inside was completely shattered by that momentary burst of high-frequency vibration. It would cost too much to repair, so we can only buy it back as scrap."

The manager set the broken saber down and held up one finger. "One thousand Gold Notes. You're a regular, Young Master Qin. Four Seas Pavilion would never cheat you."

Qin Jue didn't haggle. This saber had belonged to Ning Zhiyuan: Frost Blade, an Upper Grade Mortal Tier weapon. It had been cut in two by his Thousand Threads during their fight. Getting this much for it was already no small feat.

"Deal."

After taking the Gold Notes, Qin Jue didn't hurry off. He considered the matter for a moment, then looked at the manager. "Shopkeeper, I need another batch of cultivation resources. The same requirements as last time: high purity, without a trace of impurities."

The manager thought it over, studying Qin Jue with some surprise. "Judging by your aura, Young Master Qin, have you still not broken through to the Hundred Refinements Fifth Layer? Those three portions of fifty-year Stone Bell Milk you bought last time were incredibly pure. And they still weren't enough to get you through?"

He clicked his tongue in amazement. "Your foundation must be far sturdier than an ordinary person's. In that case, ordinary spirit medicines probably won't work for you anymore. You'll need Heavenly Materials and Earthly Treasures that are at least a hundred years old."

Qin Jue frowned. "Do you have any in stock?"

The manager gave a wry smile and shook his head. "Young Master Qin, you have to understand: once a spirit medicine reaches a hundred years old, its price is worlds apart from one that's fifty. Take hundred-year Stone Bell Milk, for example. Its medicinal power is so fierce that even a Blood Melting Realm martial artist might not be able to withstand it completely. And treasures of that level are hard for even Four Seas Pavilion to come by. We're currently out of stock. If you're not in a hurry, you can place a reservation."

Qin Jue felt his heart sink a little.

The path of martial cultivation truly required wealth, companions, techniques, and a place to train; without any one of them, the rest would fall short. He was now stuck at the peak of the Hundred Refinements Fourth Layer. If he wanted to break through to the Fifth by meditating and absorbing the natural qi of the world, it would take months of painstaking effort. But he couldn't afford to wait. The Outer Court Grand Competition was fast approaching, and potential enemies were everywhere. He had to trade resources for time.

"But..." The manager seemed to remember something. He changed tack and lowered his voice. "If you really need a treasure of that level in a hurry, there may be another way. I heard that a Purple Haze Dragon Vein Grass turned up at Wuming Workshop a few days ago. It's not as potent as hundred-year Stone Bell Milk, but it's still an exceptionally rare treasure for tempering your Jade Bone."

Qin Jue's eyes narrowed slightly, a flash of light glinting in them.

Wuming Workshop.

He knew that name too. It was the most chaotic, darkest underground market in Skywind Martial City, hidden inside a natural cavern untouched by sunlight. There were no lamps in the workshop, and all transactions took place in secret. It had only one rule: "No questions asked; goods and money change hands." It specialized in trading Fierce Beast materials that couldn't see the light of day and weapons stained with blood.

Looks like he'd have to visit Wuming Workshop after the Hundred Battles Martial Training Ground.

"Thank you for the advice, Shopkeeper." Qin Jue pocketed the Gold Notes and strode away. Tang Xiaoman was squatting at the entrance, chewing on a blade of grass. The moment Qin Jue came out, he sprang up and followed.

Beneath Skywind Martial City lay what seemed like another world.

There was no sunlight here. Only the dim glow of the phosphorite embedded in the surrounding walls illuminated the place. The vast underground chamber had been hollowed out, with arenas at its center and tiers of stands all around them. At that moment, the place was packed with people. Countless gamblers had bloodshot eyes as they waved their tickets and screamed themselves hoarse.

"Kill him! Kill him! I've got a hundred Gold Notes riding on you!"

"Tear him apart! Tear him apart!"

This unabashed violence and greed assaulted the senses of every newcomer.

Just as Qin Jue and Tang Xiaoman entered the hall, two brawny men came out carrying a stretcher. A martial artist, covered in blood, lay upon it. One arm was gone, exposing stark white bone amid the wound. Blood dripped from the stretcher onto the ground, leaving a long trail behind.

But not a hint of sympathy showed on the faces around them.

"Bah! Useless! I lost money because of him!"

"Get him out of here! He's in the way. Hurry up and start the next round!"

This was the Hundred Battles Martial Training Ground.

Tang Xiaoman let out a long breath. The jokey look on his face vanished completely, replaced by an excited shiver. He licked his lips, his gaze keen.

"Brother Qin, this place has some bite, huh?" Tang Xiaoman said quietly, watching the frenzied crowd. "Around here, life's worth the least—and the most. As long as you win, you're king, and you can have anything you want. If you lose... Heh, you're just a pile of mangled meat."

Qin Jue calmly swept his gaze over the surroundings. He could feel the blood that had lain dormant within him stirring faintly. It was the instinctive response of the Nine Revolutions Viscera Refining Secret Record to the thick aura of qi and blood around them—and the longing for battle buried in his bones.

That sensation of release after being repressed to the limit was exactly what he needed right now.

"Go sign us up," Qin Jue said calmly.

They went to the registration desk. A one-eyed old man was in charge. He was counting Gold Notes with his head down when he tossed two wooden plaques toward them.

"Write down an alias. We don't ask about your background or where you came from. You're responsible for your own life and death."

Tang Xiaoman expertly grabbed a brush and swiftly wrote down the words "Copper Coin." He'd used that alias before, and it suited him well enough.

"Old man, the rules haven't changed, right?" Tang Xiaoman asked casually as he handed over the plaque.

The one-eyed old man didn't even look up. Still counting Gold Notes, he said, "No change. Win one match, and you get half a percent of the total bets on that match. Win ten in a row, and you get ten percent."

"As for a hundred consecutive wins..."

At that, his hand suddenly stilled.

The old man finally lifted his head. His one eye looked sinister in the dim light, and he gave them a strange smile. "Heh-heh. Then you get to enter the inner arena and see the real 'good stuff.' But I've been sitting here for over a decade, and I haven't seen many people live long enough to make it that far."

Tang Xiaoman grinned. "I'll remember that."

As he spoke, he pushed the wooden plaque toward Qin Jue. "Brother Qin, your turn."

Qin Jue took the brush and considered it briefly. Half a percent—if he landed a big match with enough bets riding on it, that could still be a substantial sum. Besides, he was here to temper himself through battle. He could earn some cultivation resources along the way, killing two birds with one stone.

As for his alias...

He didn't plan to use his real name here. It wasn't that he was afraid of trouble; he simply didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention. In a place this full of all sorts, keeping an air of mystery often helped you live longer.

His brush swept down, sharp as iron strokes hooked in silver.

—Ghost Face.

"Good." The one-eyed old man glanced at their plaques. "'Copper Coin,' go to Arena D-3. 'Ghost Face,' go to Arena D-5. Remember, once you step onto the arena, only one of you can walk away. Or both of you can be carried off lying down."

The two left the desk. Tang Xiaoman grinned. "Brother Qin, watch me. I'll go loosen up first."

"You?"

"What, you don't believe in me?" Tang Xiaoman thumped his chest. "I may have only just recovered, but I can still take down a few Hundred Refinements Fifth Layer opponents without a problem."

As he spoke, he was already striding toward the arena.

Qin Jue stood at the edge of the crowd, watching in silence.

The two martial artists from the previous match had been carried off the arena. The blood hadn't been cleaned up yet, and the ground was still a mess.

The referee was a gaunt old man. Standing at the edge of the arena, he called out in a hoarse voice, "Next match! Who's up?"

"I am!"

Tang Xiaoman sprang onto the arena and grinned, dimples showing.

The crowd below burst into laughter.

"Well, well, another greenhorn."

"Look at those skinny arms. I bet he won't last three moves."

"I'm betting he loses. Anyone want in?"

Tang Xiaoman didn't get angry. He merely rolled his wrists and lightly stamped the ground with his Cloud Treading Boots. A muffled thud rang out.

"Come on, then! Who wants to play with me?"